


Beauty and The Penguin

by warmheartseek



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale, Reestablishing Relationship, Surprise! Another Praise Fic, mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 13:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15462921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmheartseek/pseuds/warmheartseek
Summary: tried a little title play on beauty and the beast, did it work? no? well darn, anyways here's a quick little fic with lots of sweet reassurance and ngl very much for @lgbtnashton on twitter bc her account is just so gosh darn good and I promised to write this for her (on anon tho bc Im a big fraidy cat but guess it's not so anon anymore hey girl hey!!)





	Beauty and The Penguin

**Author's Note:**

> tried a little title play on beauty and the beast, did it work? no? well darn, anyways here's a quick little fic with lots of sweet reassurance and ngl very much for @lgbtnashton on twitter bc her account is just so gosh darn good and I promised to write this for her (on anon tho bc Im a big fraidy cat but guess it's not so anon anymore hey girl hey!!)

   Oswald stared at the finishing touches being put on the refurbished library. His nervous hands flitted to this bookshelf and that, inching each novel until he felt it was perfectly in place. It was still a few hours until he was to retrieve Edward from Hugo Strange’s facility and Oswald felt every second tick by impossibly slow. There was little to do except ready the mansion for his former partner’s return, hoping the familiar surroundings and newly updated study would make everything easier for Edward’s recovery. Edward always loved to spend hours in the library, he’d read every book cover to cover so Oswald arranged for all novels to be replaced and the old one’s donated to Martin’s school.

 

And that _horrible_ Lee Tompkins attempting to kill Edward after all he’d done for the woman, risked capture numerous times for her, giving up the man he was meant to be, made into some kind of lapdog. Poor Edward and his misguided affections. But it was no matter, soon Edward would be back home where he belonged, and more importantly he would be with Oswald.  

 

“Alright boss, looks like everything is in order. Crew says they’ve done everything you asked.”

 

Zsasz stood with his arms crossed and Oswald straightened up when the man entered, both still wary of each other. Victor had betrayed Oswald, but it was not the first time the crime boss retained a disloyal member. Besides, killing Butch to avenge his mother’s death had given him very little choice in the matter.

 

“Thank you Victor, you’ve done well. All I ask now is that you tell the driver to pull the car around front, after that I require no further assistance,” Oswald leaned on his cane and smiled tightly.

 

“Don’t you want me to come with you to get Nygma? What if they got, I dunno, hired guns or somethin’?”

 

“And lead you to the location where Edward is laying half-alive, vulnerable to assault? I cannot say we are _that_ far in the building of our broken trust, Victor,” Oswald retorted.

 

Zsasz shrugged, “Fair enough. Good thing too, Headhunter’s been gettin’ on my case about not being home all the time, guess I can take the time to get myself outta’ the dog house.”

 

Oswald rolled his eyes, how those two men found each other he’ll never know, but it was proof there really is lid for every pot 

 

* * *

 

   The drive to Strange’s facility was agonizing, the doctor had agreed to bring Edward to an undisclosed location far on the outskirts of the city, seeing as the place had been set half ablaze and carved up by local gangs clamoring for power among chaos. Oswald was not in the position to take any chances with Edward’s helpless state, nor did he desire it.

Oswald had gotten restless simply waiting around the mansion until the time came to get Edward, all he’d resolved to do was pick out every imperfection in the new library which only worsened his already shot nerves. So he’d be there as soon as Edward woke up, to answer any and all questions the man had, and Oswald was certain he would have an endless barrage of them.  

 

When the car finally slowed to a stop outside of a largely unassuming building, Oswald realized what he thought was a backroad had really been one long driveway to the facility. The doctor had not been kidding when he’d promised security, Oswald wasn’t even sure local wildlife knew of its existence. The outside was not unlike the brownstones that lined most of Gotham’s streets, made to look like separate houses. Large men and women with even larger guns patrolled the outside of the building, feral-looking dogs on chains growled and snapped at Oswald as he approached the main entrance.

 

He gave second thought about his decision to leave Victor behind.

 

Before Oswald could even lift his hand up to knock, the door swung open to reveal Hugo Strange and a fellow nurse standing in the doorway.

 

“Hello, Oswald,” Strange drawled, “we knew you wouldn’t wait to see him.”

 

Oswald shrunk in a bit at the assumption of his predictability.

 

“Well, I am anxious to see what your practiced methods have done for Edward,” Oswald smiled.

 

“Yes,” Strange dragged his words through the gravel at Oswald’s feet, “I will have you follow me and Nurse Page to Mr. Nygma’s room. He is waiting for you.”

 

Oswald sputtered, his mouth open but words failed him. Edward was _awake_ , and much sooner than the doctors originally planned.

 

And he was waiting for Oswald. He was expecting him.

 

   Oswald hardly remembered the walk to Edward’s room, being ushered in quickly by who he presumed was Nurse Page.

Just as Strange said, Edward sat upright in the sterile hospital room. Pages and pages of scribble on paper, strewn haphazardly around the room which itself was covered in half-finished nonsense. Messy handwriting that Oswald recognized right away, all of it Ed’s and none of it seemed to form a coherent sentence. A pit formed in Oswald’s stomach at the thought of Strange’s work being unsuccessful, that Ed was back to the stupid, sniveling shell of a man he’d been when he  was freed from his icy prison.

 

Oswald approached the bed, careful not to get too close. He had saved Edward’s life but there was no telling what the man knew and if he would try to kill Oswald given the chance.

 

Oswald cleared his throat, trying to dislodge one thousand apologies tangled in his vocal chords. 

 

“Hello, Edward.”

 

He stayed quiet, Oswald shivered.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Silence. He only stared straight ahead, messing with an abused piece of letter paper in his hands.

Oswald rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to look anywhere but the unkempt man in the hospital bed. Edward seemed thinner, weaker, his hair had grown long, something Oswald found unfortunately charming on the usually pristine and groomed Edward.

Oswald grew increasingly irritated with the man’s silence.

 

“Well, Edward? You’re not going to say anything, you’re not going to yell at me or swear your vengeance on me? I expected a fight when you woke up, not a pliant mute,” he scoffed.

 

Oswald knew the words were harsh but he figured provocation was a means to _some_ conversation.

 

“You saved my life, you put me here,” Edward spoke softly.

 

Oswald remembered the first time he’d tried to speak after waking up in Ivy’s greenhouse, his throat so dry and sore it hurt to say anything above a whisper. 

 

“Yes Edward, I did,” Oswald didn’t try to hide his sigh of relief, “and I’m here to take you home.”

 

Ed finally turned, his eyes feigning focus on Oswald but something about him was not entirely there, “Home?”

 

“Yes, Ed,” Oswald choked back tears that stung behind his eyes, “home.”

 

Ed looked forward again, “Home.”

 

It was heart wrenching how far away he seemed, though Oswald understood that pain and strife Ed had been through the past few months. Oswald was grateful Hugo Strange had been able to bring Edward back in one piece, to hope for overnight recovery was misguided. But Oswald had his Edward Nygma back and that was all he cared about, having long since resolved the self hatred he felt for continuing to love someone who didn’t feel the same.

There was simply too much history between the two of them to deny it, there was no Oswald Cobblepot without Edward Nygma.

* * *

 

 

“Now Ed, I want to offer you a gift,” Oswald beamed with anticipation.

 

“A gift?”

 

Ed’s tone was surprised in a way that made Oswald’s heart skip. 

 

“My way of welcoming you home and assuring you that anything that’s happened between us during your stay with that,” Oswald paused to keep most of the venom from his voice, “ _woman,_ is water under the dock. So to speak.”

 

A nearly untraceable smile formed on Ed’s lips at the inappropriate mention of their past conflicts. It was the first time Oswald had seen any emotion on that stern face in months and was enough of a thank you, even if it hadn’t intended to be one.

 

“Lee. Where is she?” Ed’s voice hardly sounded concerned, Oswald was relieved.

 

“If I’m being honest, I have no clue where Doctor Tompkins is,” Oswald frowned, “though I saw to it that Hugo Strange administered the same level of care for each of you.”

 

Edward nodded in understanding, his body language read as uncomfortable and unsure what to do with himself in the mansion, being so long since he’d been under its roof. Oswald’s heart wrenched to see the once sure man so confused and helpless, he prayed to anyone listening that the library would be of some comfort.

 

“Now, for your gift!”

 

   Without thinking, Oswald took Edward’s hand to lead him, stiffening up when he realized what he’d done. The skin beneath his palm was rough and calloused from Ed’s time living in The Narrows’ squalor. It was a tragedy to Oswald, this man was cut from the finest cloth and deserved nothing but the best money could buy.

All of Edward’s fine features were slightly more pronounced than when Oswald had last seen him, the weight loss of being dead for a short time was something Oswald could relate to though the effects weren’t evident to most outsiders. But Oswald was far from an outsider, having spent hours memorizing the curvature of Ed’s face.

 

Ed didn’t try to wrench out of the grip, merely looked down at both of their hands intertwined with curiosity, his thumb soothing the skin of Oswald’s index finger.  Oswald’s cheeks burned with an unfamiliar furosity.

“Oswald?”

 

He didn’t know how long he gawked at their clasped hands. Maybe five minutes, maybe fifteen, maybe more.

 

“Right, yes, of course. I’ve taken the liberty of refurbishing a room in the house that once held great significance for you. I hope you find it to your liking,” Oswald gave a careful smile.

 

He kept Edward’s hand tangled with his own, leading him to a large door.

 

“The dining hall has a door now?”

 

Only Edward would notice such insignificant details of a place he hadn’t been in some time.

 

Oswald chuckled softly, “That’s a tricky question to answer, how about you just open it up.”

 

Ed tentatively took his hand back, Oswald quickly mourning the loss of warmth. He held his breath when Ed finally opened the door to reveal a grand library where the dining hall once stood. Oswald hadn’t seen the point in creating an addition to his father’s home and certainly did not want to dishonor his legacy by knocking a hole in its walls. So he took the largest room available, one that felt much too big without Edward’s presence, and turned it into something worthy of Ed’s return.

 

“What do you think?” Oswald tried and failed to mask the childlike glee etched onto his face, he was practically bouncing behind Edward.

 

Ed kept his hand on the doorknob, his shoulders began to tremble softly and his head shook sporatically from side-to-side.

Oswald’s stomach dropped, his mind racing with near incomprehensible thoughts. _Was the space not good enough?_ _Was the gesture too much after all they had been through?_ Oswald had so hoped to make this peace offering the beginning of an end to their past, a new start to what he hoped they could regain. It seemed Ed was not in the same school of thought.

 

Oswald supposed he should feel angry, such a grand extension of his apology gone to waste on ungrateful eyes. But he felt nothing of the sort, the rejection gnawed a hole in Oswald’s heart, gushing with every dashed hope he’d so foolishly had. They poured out of him, flooded the library, soaked the pages of each book and soiled them beyond recognition. Only Oswald was the destructions soul witness. Ed simply stood there, frozen.

 

“Oswald.”

 

The voice broke him from his brooding, anything Edward had to say would be like taking that gunshot all over again. Oswald was back on the pier, salt water filling his lungs and burning everything it touched. Warm blood poured over his hands, mixed with his yearning to right the wrongs between Edward and himself.

 

    Ed surged into the library, his feverish fingers running over anything he could touch; the gold fastenings on bookshelves, spines of leather bound novels, the various empty notebooks on the desk Oswald had custom made to fit Edward’s incredible lack of organization. His shaking hands seemed determined to learn every inch of the grand hall. The library’s lighting was kept dim in typical Van Dahl style, and in the event that Edward were to fall asleep in the room as he so often did, it would be a suitable resting place. The smell of parchment and the very binding that surrounded the books was intoxicating, everything about the room tailormade for Edward. It was all so beautiful, it was all so much.

 

“ _Oswald_.”

 

Was all he heard before Edward sank to the floor, his shoulder trembling evolved into a violent shake, head in hands.

 

He was crying.

 

Pitiful whimpers set off an instinct only Ed could provoke, the desire to comfort, to soothe.

 

“Ed? Edward,” Oswald sank to the floor at the dismay of his bad leg, “please speak to me, look at me and tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Edward only shook his head, sliding both hands into his hair in what looked like a terribly painful grip. His chest emitted a heaving sob that broke Oswald’s resolve.

 

“Edward, _please_ ,” Oswald cried, not sure what he was even asking.

 

Oswald wasn’t sure how to get Ed to respond, watching helpless as Ed’s entire body rocked back and forth to soothe himself, his breathing growing incredibly sporadic. Oswald reached out and grabbed either side of Edward’s face, forcing his gaze upward. Ed’s eyes were rings of red and terribly swollen. Tears still brimmed and overflowed onto his cheeks, Oswald did his best to wipe them away with his thumbs but the action was rendered useless by their frequency.

 

“I—Oswald this is just _too_ much,” Ed paused to gasp in much needed breath, “everything I’ve done to you, the times I’ve betrayed you and yet you repay me with this—this _magnificence._ ”

 

Ed slumped lower, head only held up by Oswald’s firm grip.

 

“I just don’t deserve it, I can’t accept it.”

 

Oswald’s chest tightened, his breath picking up at the absurdity of it all. Had he not been a willing participant in Ed’s own demise? Trapped the man in an ice prison and robbed him of his intelligence, the one thing he holds above all else?

 

“Edward,” Oswald forced the gaze back to his own, “for you to sit here and pretend I was not a driving force in our numerous betrayals is absolutely senseless. We’ve both done wrong by each other, and we may very well do the same again, but listen to me when I say that nothing  makes you worth less than magnificence in my eyes.”

 

Edward shut his eyes tight against Oswald’s fixed stare.

 

“ _I don’t, I don’t, I don’t,_ ” Ed chanted.

 

Oswald wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to convince.

 

“And if I have to remind you everyday of your worth, you know firsthand that I am prepared to do so. I am not a man who gives up easily, Edward. So help me _god_ I will drag you into this library every morning, every night and remind you who you are to me, what you mean to me,” Oswald emphasized each desperate word. 

 

He enveloped Ed’s slender frame as best he could from their position, resting his chin atop dark strands of hair beginning to curl from a sweat dampened head. Oswald spoke unintelligable reassurance, swaying along with the rocking motion. Ed’s hands wound around Oswald’s arms, holding tighter in wordless plea.

 

“Please tell me you will accept my gift Edward, I will accept nothing less,” Oswald pulled back so Ed would see the smile on his face.

 

Ed slowly wiped the remaining streaks of drying tears from his face, pressing fingers against his eyes to ground himself.

 

“Still importunate as always, Oswald,” Ed chided with a sigh of superficial annoyance, his voice still breaking with unshed tears.

 

“Still petulant as ever, Edward. Don’t we make quite the pair?”

 

Edward shifted himself in Oswald’s embrace to better face his friend, absentmindedly running his hands over the arms that surrounded him.

 

Ed smiled, a touch of mischief behind it, “You know the old adage. There is no Edward Nygma without The Penguin.”


End file.
